


Relative Positions

by deprough



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: AU: Frank is not the Punisher, Gen, Hints of Kastle, Scenes from the shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:38:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deprough/pseuds/deprough
Summary: This is a bit of writing I did for fun. I'm not sure if I'll do more or not; if people would like to see more scenes written up in this AU, please drop a comment. Also, because I hate transcription, I'm not doing the dialogue verbatim. It'd drive me bonkers.My work on this will be entirely at whim, so I'll be marking it complete each time I update.





	Relative Positions

The first time Frank Castle saw the Punisher, he couldn’t stop the strangled, “My god,” that escaped his lips. He stared at the bruised face, unable to look away from the damage done to another human. He’d expected to be scared, or angry. Instead, he remembered a photograph of a laughing family, and felt only horrified compassion.

“Matt,” Foggy hissed, “the tape!”

Matt stopped immediately, his toes an scant inch from the red line on the floor. Planting his walking stick, he said, “Mrs. Page?”

The Punisher stirred at his voice, turning her head toward them slowly. The harsh light of the hospital lit her blue eyes and turned them into azure wells. Even with her hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail and bruises covering her fair skin, the Punisher looked stunning. Frank shifted uneasily as his body gave his mixed signals.

She held his complete attention, but she only had eyes for Matt, watching him hawkishly as he told her, “I’m Matthew Murdock, and these are my associates, Foggy Nelson and Frank Castle. We’re Nelson and Murdock.”

Page never looked away from Matt. “I know who you are.” She didn’t raise her voice much, but it carried, aiding the curling lip in transmitting her disgust. “You protect shitbags.”

Matt snorted at the insult. “We came here today to make you an offer,” he told her smoothly, his courtroom persona on full display. “No one is paying us to be here. We weren’t even assigned to your case. We don’t have to be here. But if you’ll look around, you’ll notice that we’re the only ones who are, and you have a lot of enemies.”

Matt paused for effect, while Page continued her glare, her eyes and expression obscuring her thoughts. Matt went on: “When you were admitted into Metro-General, a do-not-resuscitate was put on you. You also have a shoot-to-kill order, and both of those were placed by the Attorney General. Someone wants you dead. Considering that Reyes has been giving us a hard time since we started to ask questions, we suspect something there.

“Someone in the DA’s office wants you dead, and we’d like to know why. We can get your sentence softened, and buy time to find those responsible for what happened to you,” Matt finished. When his statement provoked no reaction, he added, “This is your life, Mrs. Page. We can help you keep what’s left of it.”

Page chuckled without humor. Her eyebrow rose and her voice slipped into a mocking growl as she asked, “Like you did for Gotto, huh?”

Frank stood in shock for a second, stunned she’d gone there. She was the one who had killed Grotto! She’d been the one to chase him through a dark hospital, shooting randomly at people in her attempt to kill Grotto. He snatched a picture out his bag and stepped forward, extending it like a weapon. He leaned over the bed and held it in front of Page, snapping, “You want answers?” Page’s blue eyes went wide, the tough demeanor she’d worn dropping in a second. Matt grabbed Frank’s shoulders and pulled him back, but he resisted. He could hear his boss shouting for Foggy, but his eyes and attention were locked on Page. “So do we, but none of us will get them if you’re dead.”

“Where did you get that?” Page whispered, then repeated in a loud growl, “Where did you get that?”

The answer brought him nothing but trouble, but Frank couldn’t lie, not when she’d had so much taken from her already. The hesitation about whether to tell stole his anger and bluster, and he swallowed. “From your home,” Frank answered hesitantly, tucking away the illicit picture. He wasn’t sure if admitting that was the best idea, but he had a feeling that Matt and Foggy would cover his ass. And who would believe the Punisher’s accusation?

Hurt flickered over the woman's bruised face. “You were in my home?” she asked, her voice cracked with pain. “What were you doing in my home?”

 _Looking for answers_ , was on the tip of Frank's tongue when a familiar, strident voice rang out in the hallway. Matt pulled Frank back, and the paralegal let him, anger replacing fear at Reyes’s familiar shout.

The door slammed into the opposite wall despite the mechanisms on it, and Reyes entered like a thunderstorm, glaring at everyone. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.

“We’re offering to represent Ms. Page,” Matt replied smoothly, which doesn’t fly with Reyes, of course. In short order, they’re in the hall, and Frank is coming off the adrenaline high and trying to figure out why the hell he provoked the Punisher like that. While Reyes and Matt argue in the hall, Frank goes over the scene, trying to follow his thoughts back to the plan.

He’s just decided that he had no plan and sure as hell wasn’t thinking when Mahoney clears his throat. When everyone looked, he said, “She’s asking for them.”

“Who?” Reyes demanded, even as she scowled and Frank’s heart rate picked up again.

“The Punisher. She says they’re her lawyers now.”

~  * ~  * ~

The door closed behind Reyes and Red’s merry band, but Karen doesn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she stared at the door, thinking. Remembering, or trying to. It’s all muddled and mixed in her head, and she found that she barely remembers her husband’s face. She’d woken full of rage and it had been easier to fall into the fury than grieve. It had sure as shit been easier than healing those scars.

But that man - Frank - he’d shown her Michael’s face, and with that memory, another one surfaced. Then another but this time with the kids, and like a tank dragging a jeep out of muck, they are wrenched into the light of his remembrance.

“Are you okay?” the detective asked. Karen blinked and looked at him. When she said nothing, he added, “You look kinda freaked out there.”

“Get them back here,” she said, unconsciously pulling at the handcuffs holding her arms to the bed. “I wanna talk to them.”

“You do not get visiting rights,” Mahoney told her sharply, scowling at her. “The only reason that they got in here at all is that they wanted to make an offer to represent you, and I’m an idiot.” He shook his head and turned to the door.

“Hey!” Her call drew him back. “I wanna talk to them. I want them.”

The detective stared at her suspiciously. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Karen scowled at him. “None of your business.”

Mahoney made no move toward the door. “Nelson and Murdock are one of the good ones.”

“Right,” Karen snorted. Fucking Murdock, preaching to her about doing right when he danced on both sides of the law, using whichever one was convenient at the moment. _Grade A asshole._

“No, I mean it. You bring trouble, and I’d rather you didn’t bring them trouble,” he told her.

“You gonna get my lawyers for me, or not?” she asked curtly.

His lips pressed together and he left the room. Silently, she waited, hoping that she wasn’t too late, or that they hadn’t changed their mind.

They hadn’t. A knot of stress released in her chest when two of them return; honestly, she hadn’t wanted to deal with Red-com-Murdock’s particular brand of Catholic-flavored-justice. She could control Nelson, she felt. That left Frank. She locked her eyes onto him, ignoring Nelson and whatever he said. That’s not important. All that matters was that Frank helped her to remember what she’d forgotten, and she needed that.

“I’m going to need a verbal confirmation to proceed,” Nelson said, then huffed as he was ignored. Karen stared at Frank, gathering her scattered wits and putting her brain to work again. He had answers, and he was the key to more memories.

“Look, you asked us to represent you,” Nelson asserted, “and in order to do that--”

“I’m guilty,” Karen said, watching as Frank swallowed, their eyes locked on one another.

“Great!” Nelson said, “Uh, in that--”

“I’m not talking to you,” Karen retorted, derailing Nelson once more.

“What?” The lawyer stared at her, befuddled as well as concerned.

“Him,” Karen answered, still watching Frank, noting the flickers of expression passing over his face. “I need to talk to him alone.”

“Absolutely not,” Nelson said emphatically, waving his hands in a firm no. “My colleague--”

“I’ll do it.” Frank’s agreement surprised Nelson but not Karen. He wanted to do it. Karen waited as Nelson argued a touch, then coached him on what to ask, and finally left.

Only when the door shut did Frank seem nervous. “If you’re comfortable,” he started, but Karen didn’t give a fuck about this legal bullshit.

“My family.”

“We can deal with that after,” Frank protested.

“What. Do you know. About my family?” she asked with as much patience as she could muster.

She saw the moment when Frank changed. He shifted from a quiet paralegal to a hunter, an investigator. He gave up the facade, put down the damned pointless legal shit, and grabbed a sheaf of papers. “Have you seen this?” he asked, and showed Karen the truth.


End file.
